“Well, I believe they have, sir, ’pon my word. But I say, Mr Jack, sir, don’t be offended at what I say.”
“Of course not. Say it quick.”
“It’s on’y this, sir; are you the same young gent as sailed with us from Dartmouth a short time ago? because you cap me.”
“Here, give me your hand,” cried Jack. “No; stop. Don’t move. You might slip. Can’t we get a light?”
“Light, sir? Yes; of course. I’ve got a little box of wax matches in my pocket.”
There was a faint rustling sound in the darkness, and then Ned uttered a groan.
“Lost them?”
“No, sir; here they are, but I forgot about the rain last night. They must be all soaked and spoiled.”
“Try one.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll try. But I say, Mr Jack, this is like being in a mine, and it must be fiery, as they call it, being so hot. Will there be any danger of an explosion from gas?”